The Last Mourner
by Chrys-DASL
Summary: Jenna Morgan is going to another funeral, but not just any funeral. She is now the last surviving student from Elwood City High, so this one is particularly important. For my Back To The Future series. One-shot.


Jenna's shaky hand signed her name into the guest book. She'd been to this funeral home four times in the last three years, but this was the first person who truly meant something to her. The others were people from around town, people from her church, people from her various doctors. Getting older meant losing people, everyone really, but this one, this one really hurt.

Back home, Jenna had a yearbook. It was wrinkled from time, yellowed with age, and had a cracked spine from years of use. It was from Elwood City High the year she graduated. While it was used heavily, Jenna kept it hidden behind an armful of recipe books to keep her daughter from prying. She didn't want anyone to know that she'd been systematically crossing out names since the first classmate died after graduation.

It was spiteful at first, crossing out the person's name and x-ing through their picture. She hated high school, loathed it with the passion of seven suns. She was so done that she immediately moved away from Elwood City, attending college in a small town in Washington state. She had only been there three weeks when her mom called and told her about the first one, a DUI crash that killed four local teens. The others were from the previous class, but Jenna didn't care about them. The guy who passed? She did care. He'd tormented her in middle school and only got worse as time went on.

His death was fitting, so she crossed him out, glad to see him gone. The x gave her power over him, power over her own life.

She lost about twenty classmates in those first ten years, but these last few years had been brutal. Three to cancer alone the previous year, and the year before? Jenna shuddered at the thought. She crossed out so many names that she felt like the Grim Reaper himself, but in reality, she was a frail old woman herself. She was ninety-two and lucky to still have her daughter to care for her, but even she was aging fast. They talked more about their arthritis than the weather now days, not that there was much difference. They were leaving faster and faster every day, and this funeral was proof.

Jenna shuffled up to the casket and felt the crowd go quiet. They were watching who they thought was just another mourner, but in reality, Jenna was the last mourner. It was something she realized on accident when she went to cross out the name. Fern's last name was Bevelton now, a strange name Jenna thought was a typo, but back then, it was Walters, not that she'd forgotten. Fern was one of Jenna's few friends in high school, and she was one of the few friends Jenna got back into contact with in-person when she got home. They stayed friends until Fern moved to England to raise her family with her new husband.

They had lost touch, but Fern hadn't meant to. The internet kept them connected until about twenty years before when her mind started to go. She was diagnosed with dementia, but otherwise she was healthy. Her oldest son, who had ended up back in America, back in Elwood City, by pure coincidence, decided to take her in. He cared for her as she fought him, as she screamed at him, as she lost her mind to the point of silence. She hadn't said a word in the last two years. If it weren't for the home nurse's watchful Jamaican eyes, they never would've known she had cancer.

Jenna didn't know this yet. She hadn't made her way around to the family yet because she always started at the casket, always looked down on who she was supposed to miss. Usually it was some old bat—they couldn't possibly be her age!—but today was different. Fern wasn't just some old biddy. Fern was her old friend, a close friend, a friend whom she'd missed since their last contact.

She shed a tear and closed her eyes, letting off a silent prayer. When she turned around, she moved to the first group to her right. It ended up being Fern's granddaughter, a stern woman with the look of an artist, and her various cousins from England. They chatted briefly until a young man approached, well, a younger man than Jenna. His hair was thinning, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. He looked just like Fern, especially in his eyes.

Jenna's eyes filled with tears, "It's good to have finally met you. I…I'm her last classmate," she admitted, the weight of those words finally leaving her shoulders.

Fern's son softly led her to a chair, "Her last classmate?"

Jenna nodded, "Yes. We went to Elwood City High School together so many years ago. I followed the school on social media, and believe it or not they kept up with it. I kept up with it myself, and…I didn't notice until you called. I had no idea. She just…we were friends once, but when she disappeared from the internet—"

"Her mind was gone. She thought I was her first husband for many years, fighting me every step of the way. He must've hurt her so badly," he sighed.

"I remember her being in an awful long-term relationship in college, but she was only ever married to your father," Jenna corrected.

"No wonder I couldn't find any records. Man, the stories you must be able to tell about my mother. It sounds like you really knew her," he smiled.

Jenna shook her head, "I left, as did she. I wish I knew more about her, really. Please, tell me what happened."

Fern's son relayed her story to Jenna. She listened with quiet attention as the room's occupants changed over. When he was done, Jenna's daughter entered the room. She'd brought Jenna over, but now she had to get her children from school. Jenna had to leave.

"Thank you for chatting with me. Please, feel free to stop by for a visit if you're in town. I live in the pink house. You can't miss it," Jenna said, nodding to his family before leaving.

Jenna's daughter chattered about her day, oblivious to the day Jenna just experienced. Funerals were a part of her mother's life now, so Jenna couldn't blame her. Now that she'd told Fern's son the truth, she felt so much better than before. She felt lighter and more free.

Fern's son rang the doorbell expecting to get an answer, but there was none. He left a note on the door with his name and number, then he returned to his job at a printing shop downtown. A few hours later, he got a response to his call, but it wasn't what he expected:

"Mr. Bevelton? Hi, this is Lydia Porter, Jenna's daughter," the voice said. It was nasally as if the caller had a call, but he knew that sound.

"Oh my god, when? I knew I shouldn't have waited," he replied.

Lydia sobbed, "Three days ago. We're packing up the house now, but it's just so hard. It's so hard…" she trailed off, muting the phone while she blew her nose.

"Listen, I know you don't know me from Adam, but I am truly sorry for your loss. I wish I could've met your mother sooner."

"She was a character," Lydia smiled, shaking her head, "I already miss her so much, and this packing is so much. I'm too old for this, but I'm glad I'm too old. It means my mother lived a long life."

"Mom—" a voice called in the background. Fern's son listened in as the garbled voices chattered back and forth.

A moment later, Lydia returned, "Mr. Bevelton? Do you mind coming over? Now? Right now?"

"I'll be there in five minutes," he replied, hearing the alarm in her voice. When he arrived, she'd fallen on the steps, or she was spread over them. He couldn't tell, but her children had gone back to their tasks. Whatever this was wasn't serious to them, but it was to him. He knelt beside her, letting her know he was there but sitting in silence.

A moment later, she pressed the tattered yearbook into his hands. He studied the cover and recognized it from his mother's collection, though hers was simply aged and not well-used. Inside, the freshman, sophomore, and junior classes were untouched, but black lines crossed through names and bold black x's crossed through pictures. The only one left untouched was Jenna's.

"She told me she was the last classmate. She didn't even realize until my mother passed, until…I get what she meant now," he whispered.

"I feel like such an idiot. She was so quiet that night and the day after. I thought she was just tired, and when the rains came, I thought she was sore. She dodged questions until…until she didn't answer my call," Lydia paused, looking up to Fern's son, "I'm sure you understand."

"No, my mother did not die gracefully. She fought for every last breath for over a week before she passed. It was almost a relief, almost. She'd been gone for years. I didn't even know about your mother until her funeral. She's the only one from her past that I've met. I was going to come by, but with the estate and trying to get back to work…that's why I'm so sorry for your loss. It's now my loss too, all of Elwood City's. We should tell the newspaper."

"My mother wouldn't have wanted that," Lydia argued, looking over the book, "But…she did that for a reason. She must've thought it was important."

"Even if she didn't, it ended up being important. Please, a project to take our minds off things," he pleaded. Lydia was reluctant, but she agreed. While her children spent the next few days clearing out her mother's house, she and Fern's son helped a local journalist put together the story. Ten days later, it was published in the Sunday edition on the front cover of the Living section.

Support flooded the remaining families. The journalist spent time tracking them all down, a feat considering how much many of them moved around, yet they were able to hold a small memorial ceremony at the site of the old Elwood City High, a building that had been torn down long-ago. A marker was placed on the grounds of the new building there, the city's archives, commemorating the last survivor of every known class. The only one they were certain about was Jenna thanks to her years of work. And to think it all started out of spite, an act that ended in great sadness.

~End

Theme 131: Death, Theme 146: Funeral

A/N: This is my second piece for my series Back to the Future, which will showcase many of our favorite characters in the distant future. In this case, it was the last of their future, the day when the last classmate officially perished. It hurt to write this, but this is a reality we all must face.

The theme numbers are from my Infinite Theme List. For more information, please see my deviantArt profile (username SS-Chrys). You can also find all other entries for this series in my gallery folder Back to the Future.


End file.
